


Here, Kitty Kitty

by HPFandom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Explicit Language, F/M, Gen, Humor, Multi, Out of Character, Parody, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-31
Updated: 2007-01-30
Packaged: 2018-10-01 09:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10185743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HPFandom_archivist/pseuds/HPFandom_archivist
Summary: Hermione's earring is missing and the trio suspects Crookshanks. They set off on a special mission to retrieve the theiving cat and the earring. Pairings are only hinted at. This is a comedy.





	1. Mission: Cat and Earring vs. Gryffindor

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**A/N: Ok, so the warnings are really only a precaution. There are, at the most, sexual innuendos and only fantasy, stupid violence and stuff, so don't be too worried.  
A/N: I just assumed Crookshanks was a boy. If I’m wrong, sorry. XD  
-**

**Ron: So what’s going on?**

**Harry: This author just entered a contest.**

**Hermione: What in the world does that have to do with us?**

**Harry: We’re the ones she’s going to ruthlessly abuse and torture in order to make her story funny.**

**Ron: I don’t want to be abused and tortured!**

**Hermione: We don’t either, but it looks like there’s no way out of it.**

**Harry: We might as well make it funny and stupid.**

**Ron: What if I don’t know how to be funny and stupid?**

**Hermione: You don’t have to try, Ron.**

**Ron: Ha. Ha. Very funny.**

**Harry: You guys ready to start?**

**Ron & Hermione: No**

 

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Here, Kitty Kitty

**Mission: Cat and Earring vs. Gryffindor  
**  
“Harry!!” The high-pitched shriek emanated from up in the girls dormitory. “Ron!!”

Harry and Ron stood from their Wizard Chess game, confused looks set deep within their features.

“I’m coming ‘Mione!” Ron shouted up the stairs, attempting to run up and consol the crazed girl who they could now hear talking to herself in rapid, unintelligible speech. However, Ron forgot that boys cannot enter the girls’ dormitory, so as soon as he sprinted up no more than three steps, they disappeared and he fell face first in to smooth stone. “Oof!” He moaned and slid on his belly back down to the common room.

Hermione hurried down the steps and glanced down at Ron with a furrowed brow. Shaking her head, she stepped carefully over him and walked quickly over to Harry. She held out her hand and he could see a small pearl earring laying on her palm.

“Yeah?” he asked, scratching his head. He hoped she wasn’t asking his opinion.

“I lost it!” She exclaimed.

“But…” Harry looked down at her outstretched palm. “It’s right there.”

Hermione was silent for a moment as she looked down at her hand. She seemed as if she wasn’t going to reply, but when she did, she was outraged. “Of course it is! Not this one!” She closed her fist ad shoved it in her pocket as if she believed Harry intended to snatch it away from her.

“What are you talking about?” Ron mumbled, standing up and rubbing his face.

Hermione whirled on him, furious. Ron squeaked and took a step back. “What am I talking about?!” She stretched her arms in a dramatic exasperated stance. “My earring! I lost my other earring! It’s no where to be found.” Her face was turning red.

“Why are you so upset about a stupid earring?” Ron asked, tilting his head to the side in question. “It’s break, you don’t need any.”

Ron shrunk back as Hermione’s eyes narrowed. “There’s the dance tomorrow,” she said lowly, “Or have you forgotten that you’re taking me?”

Ron swallowed audibly. “Oh, that?! N-no, of course I haven’t forgotten!” he stuttered nervously.

“Well I suppose you’re expecting me to wear one earring?” Hermione asked critically.

“No, of course not!” Ron put his hands in front of himself in case she decided to attack him.

“Well then we need to find my earring, Ronald!” Hermione stamped her foot, but when she realized how juvenile the act was, she blushed.

“Well where did you last have it?” Harry piped up from behind her.

Hermione turned around, surprised. “I forgot you were there, Harry.”

Harry pursed his lips. “Yeah… Anyways. Where did you last have it?”

“Oh!” Hermione frowned. “It was in my bedside drawer. I never moved it, but now it’s gone.”

“Do you think someone stole it?” Ron inquired, looking around the room as if to see the thief hiding in a corner.

“None of the girls would want to steal my earrings. They’re charmed for sensitive ears. I’m the only one with sensitive ears.”

“Uh…” Ron looked at her dumbly. “Yeah, ok. So then what happened?”

“How would I know?!” Hermione’s voice was rising again.

Quickly, Harry pat her on the shoulder and tried to calm her. “Well we’ll find it, don’t worry. We still have until tomorrow night.”

“How will we find it?” she sniffed, turning to the green-eyed wizard.

“Well we have nothing else to do today,” Harry said thoughtfully.

“Wait,” Ron said suddenly. The other two turned to look at him. “Where’s that evil cat of yours, ‘Mione?”

“He’s not evil, Ro-!“ Her eyes widened. “Oh… Do you think?”

“He probably took it,” Ron rolled his eyes. “Dumb cat.”

“He’s not dumb! He’s very smart!”

“Whatever. Look, have you seen him lately or not?”

Hermione put her hand under her chin and pondered it for a minute. “No, now that I think about it. Crookshanks hasn’t been here all day.”

“Well then that settles it,” Harry announced. “We’ll search for the cat first. After all, finding a cat has to be easier than finding a tiny earring.”

“We find the cat, we find the earring,” Ron stated firmly, clenching a fist and waving it through the air. “I’ll bet you a chocolate frog.”

“Deal,” Harry grinned and shook his friend’s hand jokingly.

“This is the no time to be making bets, you two,” Hermione interrupted, putting her hands on her hips. “This is my first dance with Ron and I’m doing it right!”

Ron laughed, embarrassed, and suddenly found the tapestry on the wall very interesting.

“Crookshanks could be anywhere,” Harry interjected. “So we should split up.”

“Good idea Harry!” Hermione smiled, a gleam taking over her eyes.

The two boys started twitching when they saw the gleam. She had gone into power mode. “Ok! Ron, you go to the Herbology greenhouses. Sometimes Crookshanks likes the warmth of the rooms.” Ron frowned, but nodded nonetheless. There was no use debating her. “Harry, you go to the dungeons and look around there. If not hot, maybe the cat will want cold.”

“Cold is right,” Harry scoffed. Hermione shot him a warning glare. He shut up immediately.

“As for me. I’ll take a look in the Divination classroom. He likes to play with the crystal balls.”

Harry and Ron snickered at this.

“Oh be quiet you two!” Hermione chastised. “Be mature, for once!”

“Yes ma’am,” they muttered in unison.

“Okay then! Let’s go!”

“Good luck,” Harry waved to his friends.

“Mission: ‘Cat and Earring vs. Gryffindor’,” Ron grumbled. “Alright then.”

And they all set off in their different directions.

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**Yes, it was short. No, the rest won’t be like this. This was kinda the intro, of sorts. I’m writing this really fast. SO expect chapters to be updated like no other. I’m putting my other fics off until I’m done with the contests I’m doing, but it shouldn’t take long, so don’t worry.**

**A ton of characters are going to be in this. It’s not just the trio.**

**Well, thanks for reading and I hope you review the later chappies!**


	2. Dungeons: A Pamphlet, A Book, and Armadillo Bile

**A/N: Enter, Severus! No, not Snarry. Sorry. XD But me oh my, what happens at the beginning of Harry’s side of the earring retrieval?**  
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
Here, Kitty Kitty   
**Dungeons: A Pamphlet, A Book, and Armadillo Bile**

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and began to whistle, blowing a lock of messy brown hair out of the way of his glasses. He glanced around nervously every now and again. He was in the dungeons, and he wasn’t too keen to get jumped by a random Slytherin. His feet slapped the stone floors lazily and he began to grow accustomed to the drone of it. The Dungeons were completely silent, save for his breathing and footsteps.

He looked around yet another corner and sighed. He had looked down almost every corridor of the labyrinth of halls that was the stony, cold dungeons. Crookshanks was nowhere to be found.

“So much for coming down here,” he grumbled. He pulled his robes tighter around his slim torso and shivered. “This was pointless.”

“Potter!”

Harry jumped and a chill crept down his spine and settled in his gut. Great. He winced as his name was shouted a second time and turned around. “Professor,” Harry managed to grit out. “Sorry, I was just leaving.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you foolish boy,” Snape snapped, crossing his arms in annoyance. “I needed to give you something.”  
Harry froze. What? Snape wanted to give him something? Since when did Severus Snape ever give him things?

Seeing Harry’s incredulous look, Snape merely scowled and tilted his head ever so slightly. “Get a move on Potter,” he growled. “I don’t have all day. Follow me.” He didn’t wait for a reply and spun around sharply, taking off into a brisk walk down the corridor.

Harry, more than a little disturbed by the thought of Snape willingly giving him anything, followed at a distance, in case the Potions Master should change his mind and decide to instead throw something at him or bite off one of his fingers.

“Hurry up Potter!” Snape hissed, opening up a heavy oak door and stepping inside. “You walk as slow as you think.”

Harry had to bite his lip to hold back a retort. He followed Snape into what he realized was his office and the older man closed the door behind him. “Wait here,” Snape ordered, pointing at the floor like he was talking to a dog.

Harry rolled his eyes and Snape walked into the other room. Harry shuffled his feet, once more shoving his hands in his pockets and gazing around the room. It had an ethereal glow to it from the two torches that lit it up and it was well-kept. Shelves of slimy, disgusting potions ingredients sat above, and the wood of the Professor’s desk and chair was made of shining ebony. A deep, viridian rug lay on the floor, with delicate, hand-sewn patterns scattered throughout. A shelf of books was to his left. They were mostly about potions, if not all. With the exception of the potions ingredients and book selection, the room wasn’t half bad.

Harry looked more closely at the jars above his head. When he realized its content, he quickly backed up from underneath it. An assortment of different sized eyeballs were floating around in a slushy, yellow goop. Harry couldn’t shake off the feeling that they were all staring at him.

Turning away from the grotesque sight, Harry’s eyes caught a very strange item upon a certain Professor’s desk. It was a pamphlet.

Harry picked it up and looked over at the door Snape had gone through to make sure he wasn’t going to be caught. Snape wasn’t in sight. Grinning deviously, Harry turned it over and read the title. He read it a few times; about twenty-two times, to be exact. Then, he read it one more time just to make sure.

Out of all the things Harry would have expected to see on Snape’s desk, this wasn’t it. He would have been less surprised to see a leaflet about a dating service… or teddy bears, even; but this, this was just ridiculous.

It asked one question, and Harry felt himself wondering just that.

_Do you have an infestation of small, hairy balls at your residence?_

Harry looked around on the floor, horrified. _Did he?_ Harry, mind racing, began tip-toeing all over the floor, fearing that he would come in contact with one of the aforementioned balls.

What in the world did it mean anyway? Harry began to sweat. He shouldn’t have picked up the pamphlet. Snape would kill him if he found out. Who would want someone to know they had an infestation of… hairy balls? Mortified, Harry tossed the leaflet back on Snape’s desk. It fell open, and Harry felt the irresistible urge to go over and take a peek. It wasn’t his fault it fell open. Well, yes it was, but that wasn’t the point. Harry edged closer to the desk and was just about to read the contents of the pamphlet when Snape walked back into the room.

Harry straightened so fast that he heard his back give out a nasty crack. He then proceeded to lose his balance, fall towards the floor, and panic; due to the fact that he was still paranoid about the balls. He flailed around for a moment and finally righted himself. Snape had stopped during all of this and was looking at him suspiciously. “Merlin, Potter,” he said, “What in the name of all that is holy are you doing? Don’t tell me you’ve finally had a stroke. It was hard enough understanding you before.” Snape stared unwaveringly at the Gryffindor, waiting for a response.

“No, no, no, no,” Harry stammered, “No. Not… ah-… No.”

At this point Snape’s countenance wavered. He looked genuinely surprised. “Did you actually have a stroke, Potter?” He sounded dubious.

“No!” Harry choked out finally. “No, sir. I didn’t have a stroke. Sorry. You just surprised me.”

Snape’s face reverted back to the normal sneer. “Well if that scared you, then I have difficulty seeing how you are going to save the world.”

“Yeah, well you’re more scary than Voldemort!” Harry snapped. He cringed at the look on Snape’s face as soon as he had spoken and awaited a harsh reprimand for using the name so lightly. However, the reprimand never came. Snape’s face calmed and he shifted his weight.

Harry realized that he was holding a yellow book.

“This might come in handy for you, Potter,” Snape said, holding the book out for Harry to take. “Maybe it will knock some sense into your thick skull.”

Harry grabbed the book and practically choked on air when he read the title: _Defense Against the Dark Arts for Squibs_. Snape always had to mock him. “Thank you, Professor,” Harry said, agitated that the man wasted his time. “But I don’t think I need it.” He held the book back out to hand it back, but Snape pushed it towards him.

“I don’t think so, Potter,” Snape replied levelly, “It wasn’t a suggestion. You’re taking the book.”

Now Harry, who was under a lot of stress as it was, did not want to be ordered around, so this hit him right in the eye, so to speak. He was fuming. “I won’t take it!” He growled in response, shoving the book roughly into the Potion Master’s chest.

“Yes you will, Potter!” Snape snarled, shoving it back at Harry. This continued for several minutes. Back and forth they threw the innocent little book, who, I might add, was very distressed at being pushed all over the place. Curses and insults were being tossed as well, and they were utterly and completely stupid.

“Git!”

“Brat!”

“Greasy hair!”

“Messy hair!”  
”It’s not my fault my dad had crappy hair!”  
”Well that’s not the only thing you inherited!”

“Big nose!”

“Incompetent idiot!”

“Bad clothing choice!”  
”I happen to like black!”

“All it does is make you look more grim!”

“I want to look grim!”

“You scare Hufflepuffs!”

“I try!”

“Biased!”

“Disobedient!”

“I’m not a dog!”

“You chase around a ball don’t you? You just do it on a broom!”

“You should talk about balls with your infestation of them!”

“What?” Snape looked taken aback for a moment. Then, he sighed, rubbed his forehead, walked over to his desk, and picked up the pamphlet. He shoved it in Harry’s face and the Quidditch Seeker read the first few lines aloud. “Pigmy Puffs, small, hairy magical creatures, are known to infest residential areas, especially those bearing certain potions ingredients such as…Oh.”

“What the bloody hell did you think it was, Potter?” Snape asked, eyeing Harry as if he was an alien.

“N-nothing,” Harry muttered. “I didn’t really know what it was.” He reached out and grabbed the book from Snape, looking down at the floor in embarrassment.

“Just like a Gryffindor to assume such ridiculous things,” Snape stated, moving by the doorway and signaling for Harry to leave. “Read it. It might do you some g-“

Suddenly, the entire room began to shake violently. In a matter of seconds, there was an enormous explosion. The castle shuddered and a bunch of bottles fell off of their shelves and onto the floor, shattering and sending their contents flying. One, bottle, however, decided to not land on the floor, but on Snape’s head, where it broke open and spilled its liquefied contents all of her noggin.

Snape was deathly calm. His eyes were the only things showing any sort of expression as this happened. They were shut tightly as they orange fluid slowly dripped down his sallow features and onto his robes. If possible, the amber goop made his hair look even greasier, a prospect that unsettled Harry’s stomach. Even more unsettling, though, was the smell. It reeked of sour cabbage and orange peels.

Harry scrunched up his nose and felt a spark of pity for the Professor.

Snape waited until the concoction stopped trekking over his face before he took a deep, but stiff breathe as if to calm himself. Harry wondered vaguely if the stench would kill him and he would just keel over, but Snape didn’t keep. Instead, he spoke.  
”Please leave, Potter, as I must now fix my potions supplies.” He straightened, still not opening his eyes.

Harry couldn’t believe the sight. Snape’s head and shoulders were covered in an unidentifiable liquid, which Harry realized with horror when he saw the label stuck to Snape’s shoulder, was armadillo bile. Even so, the man was standing tall and not even flinching. He was acting like nothing had even happened!

“Uh, but-“ Harry began.

“Leave. Potter.” Snape repeated stiffly, leaving no room for protest.

Harry, not wanting to inhale the stomach-churning odor any longer, did as he was told, and sprinted out of the office.

As he jogged through the dungeons, feeling no need to stop, he wondered where the blast had come from. It had been enormous. Maybe he should make sure everyone was ok. Just as this thought crossed his mind and he rounded the corner at full speed, he realized his friends were going to have to wait, as he had just had a head on collision with none other than Draco Malfoy.

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**Though I haven’t a clue what armadillo bile truly smells like, I’d assume it’s something like that. XD**

**So I’ve decided chapters will be about this length. Each chapter is kind of like one section; a scene, if you will. So they’ll be about this long/short, however you want to look at it.**

**Up next:**

** Herbology: Fungus, A Brick, and Warts  **


	3. Herbology: Fungus, A Brick, and Warts

**A/N: Yes… and it only gets weirder!**

 

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Here, Kitty Kitty

**Herbology: Fungus, A Brick, and Warts**

Ron walked hesitantly into yet another Herbology greenhouse. He was getting tired of the sticky, humid air that filled them and was beginning to find his efforts quite futile, due to the fact that he hadn’t seen a cat nor earring in sight. All he’d come across was endless rows of ugly, boring plants. A few of them had even tried to take a bite out of him, leaving him wary of the green ferns to his left.

“All of this for a bloody earring,” he grumbled in irritation, kicking the dirt at his feet.

“Is someone there?” a voice called from behind the towering shrubs.

Ron’s eyes widened and he took a fearful step back. “I didn’t know plants could talk,” he muttered to himself. “I mean you no harm!” he yelled stupidly, “I don’t have any pesticides or anything, I swear!”

“What in the world are you talking about?” the voice asked, confused.

Ron frowned. “Well aren’t pesticides like… bad for you or something?” He couldn’t believe he was talking to a plant.

“Uh…” the voice seemed completely baffled. “I suppose if you drink them they aren’t exactly beneficial to your health,” it reasoned. “What are you doing in here anyway? Why don’t you at least come over here, if you’re going to be in here.”

Ron looked around, panicked. It wanted him to come over there? Ron was too scared it was going to eat him or something of the sort. “You won’t try to bite me or anything will you?” he inquired, “The last plant I came across almost took my hand off!”

“Of course I’m not going to bite you!” the voice replied. “Why in the name of all the most famous Herbologists would I want to do that?” Ron heard some shuffling and something began to move towards him from behind the greenery.

Ron put his hands out in front of him in a poorly attempted fighting pose, having absolutely no clue what to expect. The crunching steps got closer and closer until…

“Neville?” Ron’s arms fell to his sides and he stared dumbly at his fellow Gryffindor.

“Of course,” Neville stated, looking at the redhead strangely. “Who were you expecting?” He tilted his head to the side. Ron noticed it had splotches of dirt all over it.

“Uh, no one,” Ron lied, scratching the back of his head. “What are you doing in here?”

“I asked you that,” Neville said, pulling thick gardening gloves off of his hands. “I’m working with my Herbology project, of course. Why are you here?”

“Oh,” Ron breathed in the thick air uncomfortably. “I’m looking for Hermione’s cat. The dumb thing ran off with her earring.”

“Earring?” Neville frowned. “Well I wouldn’t know about that,” he muttered distractedly. “But would you like to see my project?”

“No, not rea-“

“Come on, I’ll show you!” Neville exclaimed, suddenly very excited. He grabbed Ron’s arm and pulled him past the shrubs to a table covered with dirt and leaves. In the midst of all the grunge covering the table sat a large dish, and in it was a big, brownish-green blob of what closely resembled vomit.

“Ugh!” Ron grimaced at the quivering goop.

“What?” Neville questioned, looking around the table for the source of Ron’s disgust. “Oh, that?” He pointed at the mass. “That’s my project,” he said proudly. “It’s fungus!”

“Fungus?!” Ron exclaimed, horrified.

“Yep!” Neville beamed and moved the bowl closer. “I grew it myself. Want to touch it?”

“No!” Ron yelped, jumping back only to trip over something and fall on his bum. “What the?!”

“Oh, sorry!” Neville cried, picking up the offending object and cradling it in his arms. “I didn’t think anyone would be in here, so I just sat it on the ground. I found it out by the lake. It’s covered in this incredible moss. Isn’t it fascinating?”

“It’s a brick,” Ron said, his lack of interest apparent as he pushed himself up off the ground and wiped the dirt off his rear end.

“Yes it is!” Neville observed, looking at the mossy brick as if to make sure.

Suddenly, they heard a squishy slap on he table and the looked to see that Neville’s fungus was no longer in the pan, but lying on the other side of the table.

“Did it move on it’s own?” Ron asked, his voice getting high and squeaky as he stared at the gross shape that was currently oozing tan liquid all over the table.

“It’s not supposed to do that,” Neville said, pulling a glove back on his hand.

“No, I thought fungus was supposed to jump randomly into the air for no apparent reason,” Ron grumbled sarcastically, cringing when Neville reached over to grab the glop. Apparently, the fungus didn’t like the idea of being picked up, because it rolled away as soon as Neville’s and got close enough to touch it.

Ron let out a girly scream and cowered back behind Neville. “Do something!” he gasped, frightened.

“What do you want me to do?” Neville retorted. “I didn’t expect it to start rolling around on its own. It wasn’t planned at all, actually,” he said thoughtfully.

“I don’t give a bloody care whether or not you planned it!” Ron yipped, “You’re the plant expert. Tell it to stop or something!” The two boys were now watching in a morbid fascination as the fungus rolled around the table as if exploring its surroundings, leaving a slimy trail in its wake.

“Do you think we would freeze it, or something?” Ron asked, taking out his wand.

“No!” Neville exclaimed, turning around to face the freckled boy. “That would ruin my project!”

“Ruin it?!” Ron replied, dumbfounded. “Don’t you think the fact that it’s come alive might already have ruined it a bit?”

Neville didn’t have time to reply as they heard another, this time louder, wet slap. The whirled around to find the fungus nowhere in sight.

“Where’d it go?” Ron asked, leaning down to look under the table. “Do you reckon it spontaneously combusted?”

“Not likely.” Neville shook his head. He was still holding the moldy brick.

“Well we have to find it!” Ron said, looking up at the mousy boy. “We can’t just let possessed fungus roam the greenhouses.”  
”I suppose you’re right, Ron,” Neville agreed. “Besides, it’s not as if I can come to class tomorrow without a Herbology project.”

Ron eyed the plant-obsessed teen strangely. “You’re an odd on, Neville, I’ll give you that,” he said finally.

Neville didn’t seem to hear him. “How will we get it to stop moving?” he asked distractedly, setting the brick down on the table before looking around on the ground.

“We could stun it,” Ron suggesting, waving his wand a bit as if to demonstrate.

“Don’t damage it!” Neville said worriedly. “It’s a great specimen!”

“Whatever,” Ron shook his head and readied himself should the fungus decide to attack at any given moment. “Do stunning spells work on plants?” he asked

“I’ve honestly never tried to stun foliage,” Neville answered, “So I couldn’t say.”

“There it is!” Ron shouted as the brown fungus began rolling towards them. “Stupefy!” A jet of bright red light struck the fungus right in the… heart of it, if it ever had a heart; and it didn’t have the reaction expected.

Instead of stopping its slimy rampage, it began to grow. And, boy, did it grow. It shot up like an evil, gigantic, fungus weed of doom. With disgusting wet squishes, two stubby arms popped out from its gooey depths. Next, were humungous slimy claws and a tiny head. The greenhouse ceiling shattered and glass and plant debris flew in every direction.

The monster let out a terrible roar, flinging fungus every which way. A blob of in landed on Ron’s shoulder like an oversized bogie.

“Uh!” Ron groaned, looking squeamish.

“I don’t think that worked the way we intended,” Neville observed.

“No, you think?!” Ron shouted at him, waving a hand in the direction of the growling fungus beast.

“I suppose it must have been a magical reaction,” Neville said, placing a hand under his chin in thought. “After all, it was alive. Maybe there was a botanical chemical reaction.” Neville sounded more and more excited as he went on.

“Neville! Pay attention!” Ron snapped, hitting the other boy in the back of the head.

“Sorry!” Neville said bashfully.

“How the hell are we gonna get it to stop?!” Ron yelled, watching the monster punch the castle in a fit of stupid rage, leaving big, yellowish stains on the walls.

“We could try to injure it,” Neville suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

“Good idea.” Ron looked at the ground and spotted the mossy brick lying in the dirt, having been flung off of the table. He picked it up and threw it at the irate Herbology project. “Take that, you stupid fungus!” he cried.

“Aw!” Neville murmured unhappily. That was a great specimen.

“Oh shut it, already,” Ron growled.

The brick hit the fungus in the side with a slap… and promptly sunk into its stinky stomach. It turned around curiously, glancing down at where it had been hit as if looking for a mosquito bite.

“That worked well,” Ron muttered sarcastically.

“Not really,” Neville replied, looking up at the befuddled slime.

Ron rolled his eyes. “What now?” he moaned, throwing his hands into the air in a defeated gesture.

“I could tried something,” Neville answered, taking out his wand and pointing it at the demon.

“Neville, what are you-?”

“Reducto!” Neville hollered, shooting a jet of light right into the center of the fungus.

Ron watched in dumb shock as it hit the giant and, for a moment, nothing happened.

Then, out of nowhere, it exploded.

Gobs of brown and green fungus shot into the sky like really bad fireworks, and the noise was as loud as a freight train running into a mountain. The ground shook as if there was an earthquake and the two boys fell backwards onto the ground. Then, it began to rain…… fungus. Squishy blobs fell to the ground with sickening splats, like the dropping of five thousand water balloons. The screamed in grossed-out shock as they were pummeled with the goop.

And then it ended as quickly as it had begun. The ground was now a sea of brown slime and the wall of the castle looked like it has just been painted a sickly khaki color. Needless to say, the boys were now walking, or sitting, fungus teens. Their shirts began to soak through with the slime that came from the smelly pieces that littered their hair and shirts.

“I hate you, Neville,” Ron said, his voice low and dark. “Really, I do.”  
Neville blushed from underneath his brown facemask and chuckled nervously. “I thought it would work.”

“Imagine what kind of detention this is going to get us,” Ron said in awe, looking around them. “I mean, look at it!”

Neville nodded in agreement before he let out a gasp of surprise. “AH!!”

“Neville?” Ron turned to his friend, only to watch in morbid fascination as the other boy’s fair skin began to break out in big, ugly warts. His nose, his cheeks, his arms, and most likely many other unmentionable areas, all began to pop into nasty little warts.

“I must have had an allergic reaction,” Neville sobbed out as he looked at his warty hands. “Oh, this looks terrible!”

“Bloody hell mate,” Ron said, mortified and intrigued at the same time. “Look at ‘em.”

“I can see them,” Neville retorted, pouting miserably.

“Maybe Madame Pomphrey will be able to help,” Ron said, standing and pulling the other Gryffindor up by his shirt. “I’d help you walk, but…”  
”I can walk,” Neville responded glumly, slouching and trudging towards the castle.

“How do you think we can explain this to Madame Pomphrey?” Ron asked as he jogged to catch up with his wart-covered housemate.

“How am I going to explain this to Professor Sprout?!” Neville replied dramatically, looking at the fungus massacre.

“It’ll be easy,” Ron said, a hint of amusement in his voice. “Just say, “Hey, Professor Sprout? You know my Herbology project? Well it turned into a gigantic, man-eating monster that destroyed the greenhouse, exploded, and gave me warts. I hope you don’t mind.” Yeah, that should do it.” Ron grinned.

“Why does this kind of stuff always happen to me?” Neville groaned.

“Because you’re the one who messes with fungus in his spare time, Neville,” Ron said frankly.

Neville sighed. “Yeah, that’s probably why,” he agree, morose.

“Cheer up, mate!” Ron said, patting Neville heartily on the back. “This’ll make Filch’s day! After all, he’s gotta clean it up. Maybe he’ll get warts.”

The two boys laughed all the way to the Hospital wing.

KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

**It’s hard to find a lot of similes for fungus, you know…  
Next Chapter:**

** Divination: A Fork, A Sweater, and A Sandwich **


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